


Homesick

by TheRealRedRaven



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Bang Chan is a Sweetheart, Crying, Crying Bang Chan, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Holidays, Homesickness, Idol Bang Chan, London, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Love Confessions, Memories, Tragedy, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRedRaven/pseuds/TheRealRedRaven
Summary: Home is not always a place because sometimes it is a person. They are the one who have created an unrivalled atmosphere to linger in.This home was found by an extremely lucky accident and explored in the city of the bridge that might one day fall.And it hurts like Hell to be cast out of it.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Reader, Bang Chan/You
Kudos: 3





	Homesick

**Author's Note:**

> Based on personal emotions in regards to the cancellation of the SKZ concert in London and the letter which I posted on my Tumblr. Indeed, this essentially might be a self-indulgent piece, but know there is a clear line between fact and fiction.
> 
> And I know exactly which is which.

Lonely.

That is perhaps the best word to describe the feeling of waking up in the morning in the heart of London. Normally, as happened on that miraculous night exactly a year ago, Versace Eros Homme would linger in the sheets and the running shower fill the tranquil Westminster air with the sound of falling water. 

Now it is cold.

The tears streaming down the cheeks to stain the sole warm pillow were shed first by him at the first goodbye at Heathrow. Then they could be stopped by the promise of meeting again perhaps during the summer, but that wish had to be postponed due to touring. A new promise was made by agreeing to meet in London, the prospect slightly stilling quivering full lips stuttering out the words “I miss you” to their lucky beloved.

Another dream destroyed.

With a single phone call two months ago.

‘I’m so, so sorry, babygirl. They cancelled the Europe dates for the tour.’ Breaths noticeably became shorter as the consequences of the management’s actions in regards to health and safety sank in. Fingers started to tremble, shaking the phone as well as trying to cover a mouth endeavouring to not sink helplessly to the floor with a broken heart.

But the mutual sadness crashed in simultaneously, distorting the conversation on either side with gasps and sometimes successful attempts at forming words.

‘I- You- I’ve already booked a week- weekend in Lon- London.’

‘Can you,’ composure clearly had to be regained, leaving an interval of a couple of seconds before unsteadily continuing and failing at the first word, ‘can-’

It took a difficult swallow followed by an awkward clearing of the throat to finish the inquiry spoken in a lovely Australian accent, ‘cancel it?’

‘I could. But I- I don’t have the money. I’m still a poor student.’ Breathing in felt like swallowing sandpaper, but the pain was enough to evenly smooth out speech and nullify the sobbing stuttering. ‘So I’m still going.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Westminster, close to Hyde Park.’

‘Which hotel?’ Without hesitating, the name and address were given so Chan could find out where the hotel is located, slender fingers audibly typing on the keyboard of the laptop likely used for composing new songs. After a wee while, a relieved sigh sounded on the other side, voicing approval of the accommodation. ‘Good. That’s a safe neighbourhood. I’m not letting you stay in Stratford again.’

The risk of danger there forcefully removed an ordinary travelling student from the Ibis Hotel, her favourite wolf transferring her to a safer area in the metropolis. Even if it would raise questions among the members and public if we were to be seen.

None of that mattered.

As long as we were safe from harm.

‘Chan, I... I really don’t wanna go.’ This is where the waterworks really opened and the sobbing began in earnest. ‘Not alone.’

‘You’ve been working hard. Too hard. You deserve a break, babe. Go.’

‘I hope you and the lads will stay safe, I really do. But you can’t expect me to walk the streets without the memory of you. To sit in the coffee corner of the Waterstones at Piccadilly Circus, overlooking the National Gallery without thinking of how I chased you after you kissed me on the cheek in the basement of the shop. How you kissed me in the square in front of the gallery.’

‘Of course I can’t expect that.’ A sad snicker and creaking of the bed told of sitting down like the girl across the pond, on the edge of what cannot be shared. ‘And I would have done it again. Would have- Would have treated you to breakfast, kissed you again, made love to you.’ A rasping breath tore the heart further into fragments, emphasizing the impossibility to reach out and crawl on the lad’s lap to cling to the muscled chest like a koala. ‘I miss you.’

The same words are now repeated to the empty spot, remembered by puffy eyes barely wearing any makeup portrayed in the mirror when preparing to head out for a coffee at a nearby Costa.

Clothes befitting a guest of the four-star hotel are put on without listening to Stray Kids, instead opting for the soundtrack of  _ Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate _ to remain in a British humour. It is the same music which has been on constant repeat while aimlessly wandering around the city.

Taking strolls in Hyde Park and St. James’s Green.

Hands were entwined while exploring lush green and by the waterside, enjoying an impromptu picnic with food from the nearest Tesco or Sainsbury’s.

Walking the length of the Victoria Embankment and parliament district.

Chan offered the last of his water against the warmth, unwavering in his argument that it should be allowed to take care of a significant other regardless of personal costs. However, to repay the kindness, the little wolf acted rapidly to make sure the order of two lemon ciders was paid before her taller counterpart could draw a debit card when retreating from the heat in a cooled cafe. 

Surveying art in galleries.

The ancient conflicts between a modernist and classicist somehow found their way into the relationship early, though neither of us actually knew what we were futilely howbeit amusingly ranting about.

Browsing in the various bookshops.

The kangaroo boy did not allow way less muscles arms to carry the various paperbacks that were collected when not grabbing a title from the top shelves for a girl with small people problems.

Hiding the secret tears fading in the shadows of Camden Lock, covering themselves with the unique fashion and amazing food to be found there.

The personal serving of cookie dough had to be shared because a hungry buff koala with a slight sweet tooth could not stop stealing bites.

Reminiscent of that devastating phone call.

‘I miss you.’

The three little words whispered to oneself over a large cup of cappuccino while looking out over the square where it happened a little less than a year ago.

What luck had found two souls.

What tragedy has befallen them.

‘I hope you’re okay.’ A hand wipes away the stray tear leaving a salty trail over skin, nose turning runny and teeth biting down on the lower lip when the absence across the table becomes tangible. Outside, the umbrellas have one another as they trod the grey pavements beneath the gloomy heaven. The books on the shelves are nestled against each other, the way panting lovers cuddled after their first time together and multiple intense rounds after until the evening of parting came.

Initiating hiatus.

London rain.

A broken promise.

‘I hope all of you are.’

Weary feet eventually leave the seat by the window after drinking what will likely result in a caffeine overdose. On the way to the underground, a stop is made at the nearby Sainsbury’s to buy a cheap three pounds meal deal. A student on a budget and low-calorie diet has to survive somehow and fortunately, if lucky, the convenience store offers what is wanted for a low price. Thus, with a bottle of water, fruit salad and egg salad sandwich alongside a couple of protein bars, the journey to the hotel is continued.

Vision becomes more and more watery as the stuffy underground station is left behind, slowly coming closer to the temporary accommodation that was supposed to be shared.

‘Why are you crying?’ A familiar voice that sounds like low purring when drowsy makes dark Puma sneakers turn around on the glistening marble tiles, overjoyed with the sound of home. Pale strong arms smelling of a romantic Italian holiday and dusted by thin black hairs pull the waist into a tight embrace as a thumb wipes away the droplets gracing skin. Love shines bright is warm chocolate eyes refusing to tear up in joy too. ‘Hey, babygirl.’

That is what wants to be heard.

Seen.

Felt.

But all there is, is the chic lobby.

The posh elevator leading up.

The cold sheets of the empty bed.

A lonely room.

And the unheard cries of a broken heart.

‘Fuck, I miss you.’


End file.
